


talking of hope in different tenses

by mrsenjolras



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 09:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16015499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsenjolras/pseuds/mrsenjolras
Summary: He leans in then, and Harry has a moment of clarity where he thinksholy shit he’s going to kiss me. He moves his head to the side, the man’s lips glancing off his cheek. The other man moves away, his brow furrowed, and something in Harry wishes the nice smile from before was back. He shakes out of that, though, because there’s more pressing issues at hand.“Who are you?” he asks, and the man’s face falls.“Babe?” he says, and it soundscomfortablecoming out of his mouth. Harry might be having a breakdown.“Why are you calling me babe? How do you know my name? Is this some sort of prank? Did Louis put you up to this?” Harry asks, shooting the questions out one after another, speaking more quickly than he usually would.“Wh--Louis? Harry, no, do you really not recognise me?” the guy looks crushed. Harry focuses on the IV in his hand. “Shit,” the guy says, “I’m going to get the doctor.” Harry doesn’t look up, even as he hears the guy leave the room, voice loud in the hallway as he asks for a doctor. He can’t look up, because his eyes are fixated on the ring sitting snugly on his left ring finger.[Or: Harry wakes up with amnesia and a husband, in that order.]





	talking of hope in different tenses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lirryonce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirryonce/gifts).



> this is a (slightly belated) birthday fic for amanda! the only thing she specified was lirry kid fic, and i have actually managed to keep this a secret which is quite the achievement. amanda, i love you so much and i hope you had a great birthday <3
> 
> thanks to jamila for the great (and quick) beta, love youuu
> 
> title from i can't quit by the vaccines

The first thing Harry registers is his wicked headache. It confuses him, since he’s pretty sure he’d only had one drink when he went out last night--Louis and Zayn had tried to get him to drink more, but he has that term paper due on Tuesday so he’d left them early. Or, at least, he thought he had, but his head feels like someone’s jackhammering at his skull. He groans, tries to reach his hand up to rub at his forehead, but there’s something stopping it. Someone’s holding his hand, he thinks, which is strange, because he’s fairly sure he went to bed alone last night. 

“Zayn?” he mutters, confused. He and Zayn aren’t exactly a _holding hands_ type of couple. More like a _let’s go to a party and get drunk off our faces and then fuck all night_ kind of couple. Which is fine by Harry--he’s twenty; he doesn’t need to be held down by a serious relationship.

“Haz?” a voice says, and Harry tries to turn towards it, but his head hurts too bad to move. The voice doesn’t sound like Zayn’s, or maybe Zayn is badly hungover as well. He can’t tell, and he can’t get his eyes to open. It sounds like someone might be saying his name again, but he’s already slipping back under, into sleep. 

*

When Harry wakes for the second time, his head is still killing him, but it feels like he can actually open his eyes this time. When he does, he’s staring up at a white ceiling, but it doesn’t look like the one in his flat--it doesn’t have that shoddy stain from the leaking shower in the flat above them. It’s also bright, way too bright for it to be his room, with the blackout curtains he’s _sure_ he pulled closed last night. He can’t be in his room, but he’s got no fucking clue where he could be. 

Something’s beeping. It’s steady; Harry initially thinks it’s an alarm, but then he puts two and two together. He’s in hospital. “Fuck,” he groans. 

“Harry?” someone says, startling Harry in the bed. He jerks his head toward the sound, eyes taking a second to focus. Once they do, Harry takes in the boy--no, _man_ \--sitting in the chair by his bed. He’s scrunched awkwardly in the chair, like he was maybe sleeping there before Harry woke up. His clothes are disheveled, brown hair messy like someone’s been running their hands through it, and his brown eyes are bloodshot with large bags under them. Underneath the obvious stress and exhaustion, Harry can tell he’s attractive. The only thing is that Harry doesn’t recognise him at all and he’s got no idea what this guy is doing in his hospital room. Had Harry blacked out last night, hooked up with some older guy, and then had some horrific accident that put him in hospital? If he did, Louis--and Zayn, _shit_ \--is going to kill him. 

The man is still looking at him, almost in shock. Harry opens his mouth, clears his throat a bit when nothing more than a croak comes out at first. The man gets up quickly, pouring Harry a glass of water from the pitcher next to his bed and then stepping closer and actually _holding_ _the cup to Harry’s mouth_. Harry is so fucking confused. He takes a sip of the water, lets it soothe the gravelly feeling in his throat, and then opens his mouth to speak again. “Um, hi?” he says, not wanting to be impolite but trying to infuse a _who the hell are you?_ into his words. 

The man just smiles at Harry, relieved, and puts the cup back down on the side table. He doesn’t move from Harry’s side, though, when he says, “hi, Haz. I’m so glad you’re okay, you had me so worried.” He leans in then, and Harry has a moment of clarity where he thinks _holy shit he’s going to kiss me_. He moves his head to the side, the man’s lips glancing off his cheek. The other man moves away, his brow furrowed, and something in Harry wishes the nice smile from before was back. He shakes out of that, though, because there’s more pressing issues at hand. 

“Who are you?” he asks, and the man’s face falls. 

“Babe?” he says, and it sounds _comfortable_ coming out of his mouth. Harry might be having a breakdown.

“Why are you calling me babe? How do you know my name? Is this some sort of prank? Did Louis put you up to this?” Harry asks, shooting the questions out one after another, speaking more quickly than he usually would. 

“Wh--Louis? Harry, no, do you really not recognise me?” the guy looks crushed. Harry focuses on the IV in his hand. “Shit,” the guy says, “I’m going to get the doctor.” Harry doesn’t look up, even as he hears the guy leave the room, voice loud in the hallway as he asks for a doctor. He can’t look up, because his eyes are fixated on the ring sitting snugly on his left ring finger.

*

The man comes back, along with a doctor who introduces herself as Dr. Caldwell and asks him a series of questions. Harry answers them confidently, since they’re easy things like his name and his age and who the prime minister is, but the doctor keeps writing things on her chart and humming noncommittally to his answers, and the man’s face keeps falling more and more, so Harry’s not sure if he’s answering right. 

“Right, well,” she says finally, making a slight _tsk_ -ing noise, “Harry, you were involved in an automobile accident and it looks like the trauma to your head has caused a case of retrograde amnesia.” 

“I’ve got amnesia,” Harry says, dumbfounded. “Are you serious? I thought, like, only people in soap operas actually get amnesia.”

Dr. Caldwell laughs a little. “I assure you, it’s much more common than that. It seems you’ve lost about six years of memories.”

“Six _years_?” Harry asks, shocked. “I’m twenty-six?” His mind is racing, wondering how the hell this could happen to him, wondering just how much has _changed_ in the last six years. He turns to the man still standing near the door, like he might run away if given the chance. “And you’re my--?”

“Husband,” the man chokes out. “Liam.”

“Liam,” Harry repeats, testing the name out. It doesn’t ring any bells in Harry’s memory. He turns away from Liam, looking back at the doctor. “Is there, like, treatment? Something to fix it?” Even as he asks for it, Harry’s not quite sure if he wants it. It’s scary, to suddenly be told you’ve decided to spend your life with someone you don’t know at all. The old him might have married Liam, but he doesn’t remember it at all, and that freaks him out. 

“There’s therapy,” Dr. Caldwell says, “where you would work with someone to help you find ways to retrieve the memories, or ways to hold new memories in your head. But, other than that, it’s really just a matter of time and letting your brain heal. Most amnesiacs will recover their memories on their own.”

“But not all of them,” Harry says, and the doctor nods her head slowly. 

“Excuse me,” Liam says suddenly, and then he walks out the door. Harry watches him go, still not entirely sure how to feel about Liam’s presence. He’s not really freaking out, yet, which is a blessing, but he attributes it mostly to shock. The doctor makes a humming noise once Liam has left. 

“It can be hard,” she says, gesturing to where Liam had just stood, “for family.”

“Right,” Harry says, snorting, “because this is so easy for me.” He sighs, shaking his head. “So there’s no guarantee I’ll get my memories?” 

“Not exactly,” she says. “We’ll take you in for a few scans to assess the damage, but unfortunately there’s not much knowledge about how to get memories back after they’ve been lost. But I will say that most cases do heal on their own, and most amnesiacs are able to live perfectly normal lives.”

“Okay,” Harry says. Suddenly, he’s exhausted. It’s a lot, to wake up in a completely new time, a body that feels incorrect, and surrounded by people he doesn’t recognize. “Um, if it’s alright, I think I’d like to sleep now.” 

“Of course, Harry,” she says. “I’ll let you rest. There’s a button there so you can ring for a nurse if you need anything else.” And with that, she leaves him alone in the hospital room. 

Harry leans back against the pillows, body going limp even though his mind is racing. He racks his brain, tries to see if he can bring memories back by sheer force of will, but his head is still aching, and he gives up pretty quickly. Besides, the only thing he can remember is sitting hungover in his Marketing Foundations lecture yesterday--or what he _thinks_ was yesterday, but was apparently six fucking years ago. He closes his eyes, though he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep soon, and his mind drifts to Liam, the man he’d married. He tries to picture the Liam he’d seen in the hospital room, but aged back several years to someone he might have seen around Manchester, but it doesn’t work. He supposes he’ll have to ask Liam about it whenever he comes back. If he even _wants_ to come back--part of Harry thinks that maybe he’ll leave, too overwhelmed with the idea that Harry doesn’t remember him. He feels a bit sympathetic; it must be rough for Liam to have his husband forget his entire existence, but Harry’s a bit caught up in the fact that he’s forgotten years of his _own_ existence. 

He sighs. He’s just going round in circles now, and his head aches, as does his side--he hadn’t thought to ask earlier, since the amnesia was obviously the most important part, but he figures he’d gotten a bit banged up in other places from the crash as well. He closes his eyes, letting out another breath. It doesn’t take long for sleep to find him. 

*

When he wakes again, there are quiet voices speaking in the room. He keeps his eyes closed, wondering if maybe he could learn a bit about his new life by eavesdropping. 

“Have you told him?” someone says. Harry thinks he might recognize the voice, but they’re speaking in a whisper, and he can’t place it. 

“Not yet,” the other person replies, and that’s Liam, Harry knows. 

“Li, you’ve got to tell him. He doesn’t deserve to be kept in the dark,” the other person says fervently, and Harry wonders at what they’re talking about. What could Liam be keeping from him? It sounds serious, based on the person’s voice. 

“I’ll tell him, Lou, just--not now,” Liam replies, and Harry barely keeps himself from making a noise when he hears Liam name the other person. It’s Louis, of course it is, and part of Harry is overwhelmingly relieved that there are still people he knows in this new life of his. The fact that he and Louis are still friends six years after the last Harry remembers sends a warm feeling through his chest. Someone in the room sighs, cutting through Harry’s thoughts, and he realises he should make himself known, even though curiosity is pushing him to listen further, try to figure out whatever it is they’re talking about. But his conscience is telling him that eavesdropping is never good, so he starts to shift around in the bed, trying to make enough noise that the others notice him. 

“Haz?” Louis says, and Harry opens his eyes. Louis hasn’t changed much since the last time Harry saw him. He’s got a few more tattoos on his arms, visible in the short sleeve shirt he’s wearing, some more lines around his eyes and mouth, a bit of stubble visible on his chin. 

“Hi, Lou,” Harry says, “long time no see, eh?” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “I saw you last week, you twat. Of course you’ve gone and forgot me.” 

Harry smiles a bit, glad that Louis is bantering with him, not treating him like he’s made of glass. “Haven’t,” he replies. “But have you got a new husband that I don’t know, too?” 

He means it as a joke, of course he does, only Louis doesn’t laugh. He shoots a concerned look at Liam, instead, and when Harry looks, Liam has a look on his face like he might be sick. Evidently it’s too early for him to be making jokes about his condition. “Erm, sorry?” he says awkwardly. 

“It’s alright,” Liam says quickly, but he still looks like he would rather be anywhere other than in the room. “Um, your mum is here, only they don’t let more than two people in at a time. Would you like to see her?” 

“Yeah,” Harry says, because he always wants to see his mum, but especially now. Even if she can’t really help him get his memories back, she might be able to help him get his mind around his new life. 

Liam stands, makes for the door, only to stop when Louis makes a protesting noise. “I can get her,” Louis says, and he doesn’t elaborate, but Harry can hear the _don’t you want to stay?_ he’s implying.

“It’s alright,” Liam says, voice tight. “You and Haz can catch up.” Louis looks like he’s going to protest again, but Liam jerks his head, and Louis slumps back into the seat. It’s interesting to watch, since Harry had never seen Louis acquiesce to someone else so easily. He wonders what else might have changed in the last six years. Liam leaves, and Harry looks at Louis. 

“It’s funny,” he says, “because he married me, yet he’s barely spent time with me since I woke up.” 

“Don’t,” Louis says, shaking his head, “don’t say that. He loves you, Harry, I think more than I’ve ever seen someone love another person, and it’s so hard for him.” 

“It’s not like this is a walk in the park for me, Lou,” Harry says, because he’s tired of everyone telling him that this is so hard for _Liam_ , and no one seems to care much about how difficult it is for him. He’s the one who’s bloody forgotten six years of his life, forgotten birthdays and weddings and maybe even deaths, who knows. He doesn’t even know who he _is_ anymore, but everyone seems to be more focused on how Liam feels. It makes bitterness rise in Harry’s stomach. 

“I know,” Louis says, deflating a bit. “I’m sorry. How are you, mate, really?” 

Harry starts picking at a loose string on the hospital blanket. “Scared, like. Last thing I remember was you and Zayn leaving for the club and writing my paper for Psych, then I woke up here and there’s someone I’ve never seen before trying to kiss me and saying he’s my husband. It’s--not a quick adjustment.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, “I’m sorry. But I wasn’t lying before, when I said Liam loves you. He really does, and he’ll get a bit better about being around you.”

“Can I ask--am I still friends with Zayn? It’s just that, like, we were together,” Harry waves his hand around, trying to express the nebulous relationship that he and Zayn had, “I mean, I remember being with him. And I’m obviously not, anymore.” 

Louis shifts in his chair, a little awkwardly. “Erm,” he starts, before pausing. “No, is the short answer, I guess.” 

Harry opens his mouth, wanting to ask Louis to elaborate, but the door opens before he can get the words out. His mum walks in, and Harry feels his eyes well up with tears before he can help it. Much like Louis, his mum doesn’t seem to have changed very much, though Harry can see that she’s aged a bit. There are bags under his eyes, probably from the stress he’s given her by being in hospital. “Hi, mum,” he says, a bit choked up, and his mum’s eyes well up. She walks towards him quickly, wrapping him up in a tight hug. 

“Oh, darling, I’m so glad you’re alright,” she murmurs, moving them back and forth slightly. Harry’s ribs are hurting, a little, from the force of her grip, but Harry doesn’t want her to let go. She pulls away eventually, though, pulling a chair close to the side of the bed and sitting down, still holding his hand. 

“Not fully alright,” Harry says, gesturing to the machines beeping steadily behind him. 

His mum sighs, shaking her head a little. “Oh, Harry, we were so worried. You didn’t wake up for almost a week, we’re all just glad you’re awake.” 

Harry looks down, staring at where his fingers are interlaced with hers. “I must have forgotten a lot,” he says quietly, “and that scares me.” 

Anne squeezes his hand. “It’s alright, sweetheart. None of us blame you, you know? You’ll get better soon enough, and it’ll be fine.” 

“Can you...will you tell me about my life?” he asks tentatively. “I just...it’s like I went to sleep one person and now I’m someone completely different.”

“Oh, honey,” Anne says, wiping under her eyes with her free hand. “We don’t want to overwhelm you,” she starts, glancing at Louis before looking back to him, “but you can ask us, or Liam, anything.”

Harry wonders at his mum looking at Louis like that; it reminds him of the conversation he’d overheard between Liam and Louis earlier. He’s starting to wonder if there’s something bigger that they’re keeping from him, but he also thinks that it might come from Liam, not his mum or Louis. He shakes it off for now, making a note to talk to Liam about it the next time he’s here. 

“Um,” he starts, not sure what to ask first. He’s got a million and one questions about the mysterious man that is his husband, but he thinks he should maybe suck it up and ask the man himself. “What’s my job?” 

“You’re in communications, public relations,” Louis says. “Surprisingly, you actually found a career in what you studied at uni.” 

“Did you not?” Harry asks. Louis had been studying drama when they were in uni, and Harry had always thought it was a perfect choice for him. 

“Couldn’t hack it on stage,” Louis replies, but he doesn’t look too upset about it. “Ended up teaching instead. Liam always says that I’m so good at it because my maturity level is on par with the kids.” He smiles, but Harry can’t return it, caught up on the easy way Louis talks about Liam, the comfort and jokes they obviously share. It makes something like jealousy rise up in his stomach, which he doesn’t understand. He thinks he would want his best friend to get along with whoever he’s with; maybe it’s that Louis is so obviously familiar with Liam while Harry knows nothing about him. It throws him off, and he looks down at the hospital blanket. 

“Is Gemma alright?” he asks, looking at his mum and trying to move to a safer topic. His mum smiles at him indulgently, like she might know what he’s trying to do. 

“She’s doing well. She’s living in Liverpool now, working. She’s found herself a sweet guy, they’ve been together a few years. We’re thinking they’ll be married sooner than later,” she says. “She would be here, but she couldn’t get off work. She might come at the weekend to see how you’re doing.” 

Harry smiles, glad that Gemma’s happy, that she’s apparently moved on from the dick she was seeing when Harry was in uni. “Do they think I’ll still be in here then?” he asks. He’s honestly got no idea what day of the week it is now, or how long he’s been in hospital. He feels mostly alright, minus the fact that he’s forgotten over a half decade of his life. 

“Not sure, mate,” Louis answers. “The doctors told Liam they want to hold you for a few more tests, make sure there’s not any lasting damage from the accident.” 

“Lasting damage more than the amnesia?” Harry asks, a bit sarcastic. 

“Right,” Louis replies, deadpan, and Harry smiles. He’s glad Louis still never takes his shit. It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed. 

There’s a soft knock on the door then, and a nurse pokes her head in. “Oh,” she says, noticing the others in the room. “I was just stopping by to see if you would like a bath, Mr. Styles, maybe change into some fresh clothes?” Harry smiles at her, nodding. He feels nasty, like he obviously hadn’t bathed in a while, and if he’s being honest he’s glad for the break from his family. They keep giving him these expectant looks when they think he isn’t watching, like they’re just waiting for him to snap out of it and say he remembers everything. 

“Um, yeah, I think I would like that,” Harry replies. “Feel a bit grimy.” It’s for his mum and Louis, really, to try to show them that he’s not kicking them out, he’d just like a bath. Really, he sort of _is_ kicking them out, but they don’t need to know that. Louis and his mum get up to leave, Louis patting him on the shoulder and his mum leaning in to kiss his cheek. When they’ve left, the nurse steps closer to his bed, smiling again. 

“Hiya, I’m Shannon,” she says brightly, and Harry can feel his mood lifting just from her bubbliness. “I’m going to be one of the main nurses working with you while you recover, so I thought it best we get acquainted now. Now, you banged your leg up a bit in the accident, but you should be able to walk with my help and we can get you over to the tub, alright?” 

“Alright,” Harry says, with some wariness. He doesn’t exactly like the sound of walking, but he also feels that Shannon wouldn’t have him do it if he weren’t capable, so he sits up, moving to take the blankets off his legs. Shannon comes to his side after she messes a bit with the machines, unhooking him from the heart monitor and moving his IV to a mobile stand. 

It’s slow going, to get to the bathroom. Shannon was right--Harry’s left leg hurts like a bitch, and he can barely put pressure on it without recoiling in pain. He would think it’s broken, only when he asks Shannon about it she says it’s just a sprain; that, in combination with the disuse as he lay in bed, is causing the pain. By the time they make it to the bathroom and Shannon leads Harry into the walk-in tub, there’s a thin layer of sweat covering Harry’s face, and he’s doubly glad for the bath he’s about to get. 

“Well done, Harry,” Shannon says, smiling as she starts the taps. “I was afraid we were going to need to ask your husband in here, make some good use of those muscles of his.” She winks at him, and Harry forces himself to laugh. He’s not sure how much Shannon knows of his condition--he supposes she should know everything, since she’s his nurse and has access to his files and all. But either way, it’s an innocent enough comment to make (hadn’t Harry himself been admiring Liam’s physique, before it all went to shit?), so he lets it roll off his shoulders and instead relaxes into the water. Shannon picks up a cloth and sets about lathering him with soap, though Harry could really do it himself. He’s pretty sure his arms aren’t injured, but Shannon goes about bathing him quickly, like she’s done it a million times before. Which, when Harry thinks about it, is probably true. 

“You’re very lucky,” Shannon says as she begins to shampoo his hair. Harry makes an inquisitive noise, not sure what she’s talking about. “Your husband’s barely left the waiting room since you came in,” she says then, and Harry closes his eyes slowly. “You’re lucky to have someone who loves you that much, is all.” But Harry doesn’t respond, they complete the rest of his bath in silence. 

Harry lays in bed that night much like he had the night before, trying to remember something about his life. It’s about as successful as it was the previous night, and he gives up even earlier, giving himself over to sleep.

*

Harry wakes slowly, stretching himself against the pillows. There’s a pleasant ache between his thighs, and he smiles before opening his eyes, only to find himself alone in bed. He frowns a little before he hears the noises coming from the kitchen, and he sits up, meaning to go see what Liam’s up to. Only before he can, Liam’s opening the door to the bedroom, carefully balancing a tray in his hands. 

“Oh,” he says when he looks up, “you’re up!”

“That I am,” Harry replies, smiling. “What’ve you got there?” 

“Breakfast,” Liam says, sounding proud of himself. He walks up to the bed and sets the tray on Harry’s thighs before crawling in next to him. Harry smiles down at the tray, the glasses of orange juice next to only slightly burnt toast and eggs. 

“You didn’t have to,” he says quietly, ducking his head to hide the blush he knows is staining his cheeks. Liam notices anyway, and leans in to press a kiss against his cheek.

“Wanted to,” he says quietly, and when Harry turns to look at him, he doesn’t look away. He smiles a bit, eyes darting between Harry’s own and his lips. “You’re beautiful, you know?” Liam says, and Harry turns his head away. He’s still not used to Liam’s compliments and how easily he gives them to Harry. Liam brings a hand up to Harry’s chin, using it to pull him back so they’re facing each other once again. “I mean it,” he says, and then he’s leaning in, closing the distance between them, and Harry lets his eyes slip closed--

Harry wakes with a gasp, startling against the hospital sheets. It wasn’t a dream, he knows, but a memory, something slotting back into place in his mind. It’s strange, he thinks, that the first memory he gains back is something to do with Liam, but then he laughs at himself. Liam’s his _husband_ , of course he’ll have memories of him. He settles back, closing his eyes and willing himself back to sleep, hoping it will cause him to remember more. 

*

When he wakes next, it’s morning, and Liam is sitting by his bed. The memory last night has softened Harry’s feelings towards Liam a bit, and he smiles a little when he sees. “Morning,” he croaks, and Liam startles, looking up from where he’d been staring off into space. 

“Haz,” Liam says, then he moves to get up. “Do you need anything? Water, or a nurse, or something? Should I get your mum?” 

Harry laughs, reaching for the remote on the side of the bed and moving it into an inclined position. “Do I really look that terrible? I’m fine,” he says, and then he pauses for a moment, considering. “I remembered something.” 

“What?” Liam asks, eyes boring into Harry’s. He looks so _hopeful_ , Harry almost has to look away. “What was it?” 

“Uh, you made me breakfast in bed,” Harry says, studying the bedspread. He can hear Liam’s surprised intake of breath, the way he scoots the chair closer. “I’m not--not sure when it was, just that you came in with some toast and eggs.” He leaves out the part about Liam calling him beautiful, about them kissing; he’s still not sure how he feels about it himself, and he doesn’t need Liam reading anything into it. He glances at Liam, under his eyelashes, and Liam’s looking right back, a small smile on his face. 

“Yeah, that sounds about right. Toast and eggs is the most I can make. That’s good, though, that you’ve got a memory back. We’ll have to tell the doctor.”

“Not yet,” Harry requests. “I thought maybe we could talk a little more? Get to know each other a bit. Or, well, I could get to know you.” 

“Of course,” Liam says. “You can ask anything, anything you want to know.” 

“How long have we been together?” Harry asks. It’s something that’s been eating at him since he woke up. 

“Six years,” Liam says, and Harry winces. 

“Shit,” he says succinctly, making Liam chuckle. “So everything I lost?” 

“The entirety of our relationship, by only a few months I reckon. Louis said you remember being with Zayn?” Liam asks. Harry’s a bit taken aback that Louis had told Liam that, but then he remembers the way Louis had spoken about Liam the day before, their obvious familiarity. 

“Yeah,” Harry replies, after a beat. “Sorry.” 

“Not a problem,” Liam says. “You really can’t help it. But, uh, do you know what time of year it was? That you remember?”

“March,” Harry says. “My birthday was only a month ago, or, that’s how it feels. And exams were coming up.” 

“Right,” Liam says. “Well, you and Zayn...broke up, I guess, at the end of March. And you and I started going out a little into April. I think it was kind of a rebound, at first.” 

Harry winces again. “I’m a dick,” he says, and Liam laughs again. 

“Yeah, well. We went out for a bit until I realised the rebound thing, and then there was a fight, and then when we made up it was a lot more serious for the both of us.”

“So we’ve been together six years. And we’ve been married for?” 

“Three.” 

“We got married young,” Harry says. He was 23 when he got married. It feels impossible, in his 20-year-old mind, but the proof is right there in the ring on his finger. 

“We knew what we wanted,” Liam says seriously, and Harry nods slowly. 

“So, we’ve been married three years. Any talk of kids?” Harry asks, mostly jokingly, only Liam doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t smile, either, and he looks away from Harry, clearing his throat. Harry’s stomach begins to sink. 

“Well,” Liam starts, and Harry sits up further in bed. 

“We have a kid?” he says, voice faint. 

“Yes,” Liam says, looking straight at him again, determined. Harry falls back against the bed, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes. “We have a little boy.” 

“Fuck,” Harry whispers, “I’m a dad?” 

“Yeah,” Liam says, just as quiet, “a really good one.” 

Harry lets his hand slip away from his face, but he still feels slightly woozy. “What’s his name?” 

“Jonah.” 

“Jonah,” Harry repeats, quietly. It’s a nice name. “How old is he?” 

“About to be five. We adopted him almost two years ago, now,” Liam says. Harry starts to feel faint again. 

“Can I have some water?” he says, and Liam nods, standing immediately to pour Harry a glass and help him drink when Harry’s hands shake too much.

“I’m sorry,” Liam says. “We meant to tell you, but the doctors said to try not to overwhelm you, and, well, we thought the marriage thing was enough to grapple with.” 

Harry nods. “Okay,” he says. “Um, can I meet him? Not today, but, like, in a bit? Once I’ve wrapped my head around this a bit more.” 

“Of course,” Liam says. “He’s been here, most days, but he stays out with your mum. He knows that you’re hurt, but we haven’t told him everything. It’s--it’s hard.”

“Yeah,” Harry responds. He suddenly feels a bit more empathy for Liam, and the way he’d been acting the past couple of days. Liam’s not only been dealing with his husband forgetting him, but with his husband forgetting their child as well. He thinks he understands Liam a little better now, but, well, he’s got to come to terms with it for himself before he can help someone else. “I think...I think I want to be alone, for a bit. To rest. And think about some things.” He looks up at Liam, who’s making a valiant effort to cover up the hurt evident on his face. 

“Right,” Liam says, taking a step back from the bed. “I’ll be outside, you know, if you need anything.” And then he turns brusquely and walks out the door, leaving Harry feeling much more lost and confused than he’d been when he’d woken up this morning.

*

His mum comes in a while later, after Harry’s had his lunch, which sits like a rock in the bottom of his stomach. The doctors had also come and talked to him about his memory, but he’s lost all the enthusiasm he woke up with after Liam’s revelation. 

“Mum,” he practically croaks out, “I’m a dad.” 

“You are, darling,” she says, leaning forward in her chair and grabbing his hand. 

“I don’t--I can’t be a _dad_ ,” he cries out. “I can barely do my wash right!” His mum just laughs softly, though, and squeezes his hand. 

“Maybe when you were 20, Harry, but you’ve grown up since then. I know you don’t remember, and how scary that is. But trust me when I say that you love that little boy more than anything, and you are an amazing father to him.” 

Harry nods, throat feeling tight. “I think I want to meet him. Maybe tomorrow?” 

Anne squeezes his hand again, nodding. “You can do that. He wants to see you, too.” 

“Okay. Tomorrow, then.” 

*

Harry barely sleeps the next night, tossing and turning with anxiety over meeting Jonah the next day. He tries to tell himself not to be nervous, that he’s not even actually _meeting_ Jonah for the first time, just seeing him for the first time in a while. Maybe he’ll take one look at Jonah and remember everything, he thinks. He doesn’t hold his breath for that, though. 

He feels like he hasn’t slept a wink by the time Liam arrives the next morning. He enters the room alone at first, standing near the door and giving Harry a concerned look. “Are you sure you’re ready? There’s no pressure, you know.” 

“When I talked to the doctors yesterday,” Harry starts, “they said I could go home as soon as tomorrow. And, like, I’m assuming my home is with you and Jonah. I want to meet him.” 

“You could, uh, go home with your mum, if you want,” Liam says, looking down.

“Liam,” Harry says, waiting for Liam to look up at him before he continues, “I don’t want to do that. Bring Jonah in, yeah?” 

“Alright,” Liam says, and then he turns and opens the door again. Shortly after, he steps back inside, holding the hand of a little boy. 

“Dad!” Jonah says, and then he releases Liam’s hand and dashes over to the bed. He climbs right up onto the bed next to Harry, and Harry’s too shocked to do anything. 

“Jonah,” Liam says, stepping forward like he’s going to take Jonah off the bed. “Dad’s sick, you know, you can just jump all over him, yeah?” 

“It’s fine,” Harry says, giving Liam a quick smile before he turns it on Jonah, getting a good look at the boy for the first time. He’s adorable, Harry thinks, with dirty blonde hair and big brown eyes that actually remind Harry of Liam, though he knows Jonah was adopted. “Hey, Jonah,” he says cautiously, and Jonah beams back at him. 

“Are you feeling better? Daddy said you were hurt and that’s why I couldn’t see you for a while, but if you’re better then you can come home with us, right?” he says, all in a rush, and Harry finds himself helplessly endeared by the boy, only five minutes after seeing him for the first time. He’s always liked kids, of course, but there’s something about the knowledge that Jonah is _his_ that makes everything different.

“I’m feeling much better,” Harry says, smiling when Jonah lets out an excited noise. “The doctors said I can go home very soon, maybe even tomorrow.”

“Really?” Jonah gasps, looking from Harry to Liam, who’s still stood near the bed with a small smile on his face. Liam nods at him, confirming what Harry’s said. 

“Really, buddy,” he says. “But just because Dad’s coming home doesn’t mean he’s fully better, alright? So we’ll still need to help him out when he’s home. You can do that, right?” 

“Yeah!” Jonah says, nodding his head enthusiastically. Harry smiles at him, and can’t resist reaching out and ruffling Jonah’s hair, making him collapse into giggles against Harry’s side. It feels great, he thinks, and he looks over to find Liam watching fondly. He and Liam share a smile over Jonah’s head before the boy is commanding Harry’s attention again, wanting to fill him in on what he’s been doing since Harry went to hospital. 

They spend the afternoon like that, Liam sat at Harry’s bedside and Jonah sitting with him on the bed. Harry still can’t remember anything other than that one moment he saw in the dream, but he’s starting to feel like he belongs here, with these two. 

*

Dr. Caldwell comes back later in the afternoon and takes Harry for one last scan, and after he’s back in his room with Liam and Jonah, she returns with a small smile on her face. “Good news, boys,” she says, “Harry can go home tomorrow morning.”

Jonah cheers next to him, and Harry smiles. When he turns to share that smile with Liam, however, he finds Liam frowning at the doctor. 

“You’re sure?” Liam asks. “I just want to make sure he’s definitely better before we discharge him.” 

“I’m sure,” Dr. Caldwell responds. “His condition has improved greatly, and there’s really nothing more we can do here. It’s all up to you, now,” she says to Harry with a smile, and Harry forces himself to smile back. 

Maybe Liam was right, he thinks later, maybe he’s not fully ready to go home. He’d thought he was, and he definitely thinks he’s well enough to be out of hospital if they need the bed for someone else. But going back to the house he shares with Liam and Jonah, perhaps even the bed he shares with Liam? He definitely doesn’t feel ready for that. It’s like being in the hospital was a test drive for his life, one where all the other players went home at the end of the day and left him to his own devices. Leaving that protection scares Harry, more than he’d like to admit. 

He briefly considers Liam’s suggestion, about going to his mum’s house instead. It’s a tempting offer, he knows--it would be safe at his mum’s, more familiar than wherever he lives with Liam. But at the same time, he can’t quite get the image of Jonah’s face when the doctor had said Harry could go home out of his head. And he knows that, even though he’d only spent a day with the little boy, he’d miss him if he went back to his mum’s house.

He knows what he has to do, and it’s to bite the bullet and go home--the home he’s built with Liam and Jonah, even if he can’t remember it. 

*

Dr. Caldwell is in his room first thing the next morning, going over his therapy schedule and the pain medication she’s sending him home with. “And I’ll be sure to remind Mr. Payne of all of this as well,” she says at the end, and Harry’s quietly glad for that. His head still vaguely hurts from the trauma, and he’s never been particularly good at remembering details, even before the amnesia. But Liam seems like the type to pay attention to those things, to be able to remind Harry when to take his meds and when his appointments are. Harry thinks he’ll probably ask Liam to take him to therapy; he’s not keen on getting behind the wheel of a car just yet. He can’t remember the accident, obviously, and Dr. Caldwell says that would probably be the very last thing he remembers, if he ever does. That doesn’t stop him from shuddering at the mere thought of driving again, though. 

Liam comes in a bit after the doctor leaves, a small gym bag in his hand. “Thought you might want some of your clothes from home,” he says. Harry smiles and thanks him, taking the bag. He pulls out his KISS t-shirt first, the one with “Hot N Hard” written across the back. He laughs when he sees it; it’s one of his favourites to wear in his memory, and he wonders if that’s still true in his new life. “I looked all over for that,” Liam says with a smile when he sees the look on Harry’s face. “I thought it might be easier for you to wear something you know you’ve worn before? I don’t know, I just want to make this as painless as possible for you.” 

“Thank you, Liam,” Harry says sincerely. “I love this shirt, it’s one of my favourites.” 

“You barely wore anything else the first six months we were together,” Liam says, smile widening. “I think me and Louis ended up hiding it somewhere to make you wear something different.” 

Harry laughs, glad that Liam seems to be opening up to him a bit more. He hugs the shirt to his chest, biting his lip. He’s not sure if he should change with Liam still in the room or not--Liam’s clearly seen him naked before, but Harry’s not exactly comfortable stripping in front of him now. Liam seems to catch his hesitancy, and his face turns serious quickly. 

“Right,” he says, “I’ll let you get dressed, then.” He leaves, face still serious, and Harry wonders if it’s always going to be like this--moments where it feels like he and Liam are breaking down their barriers, only for them to be built right back up again. He sighs, looking back down at the shirt in his hands. Liam cares about him, Harry knows; the memory he’s recovered shows him that as much as Liam’s behavior over the past few days. Harry just questions whether they’ll ever be able to get back to whatever they were before. Part of him doesn’t know if he even _wants_ to get there. 

*

After he gets changed and the doctor comes in one last time to check up on him, he’s officially discharged from the hospital. He follows Liam down to the car park and into the car Liam points him to. There’s a carseat in the backseat, and toys strewn over the floor; Liam smiles at him sheepishly when he catches him looking. “Been a while since we’ve cleaned,” he says. 

“S’alright,” Harry replies, shoving the gym bag near his feet. “Is Jonah at home?” 

“Yeah, with your mum,” Liam says, starting to maneuver the car out of the car park. “I think they were talking about baking something to welcome you back. Though that might have been a surprise, so act like I didn’t say that.” 

Harry laughs. “Liam Payne, are you a tattletale?” he asks, teasing, and then laughs again when Liam only nods seriously. 

“I’m the worst at secrets. I think the only one I ever kept from you was when I proposed.” 

“Really?” Harry asks, suddenly intrigued. “How did you do it?” 

“We were on holiday, in the Lake District. It was proper beautiful, you know? And we’d planned it for ages, getting the time off work and everything. It felt like the first time we’d been alone with no distractions for the longest time, and I just felt like it was right. So I asked, and you said yes.” 

“And the rest was history,” Harry says, grinning, and Liam smiles back at him. 

“Exactly.” 

*

As the car pulls up to the house, Harry finds himself overwhelmed with nerves. Sure, he’d loved the time he spent with Jonah in the hospital, and he’s getting more comfortable around Liam, but neither of those things quell the anxiety in his stomach. He takes a deep breath when Liam parks, and Liam turns to look at him, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You all right?” he asks, and Harry takes another deep breath before he smiles. 

“Yeah, good,” he says, reaching to undo his safety belt, but Liam’s hands stop him. 

“Seriously, Haz,” Liam says, looking right into Harry’s eyes, and Harry’s suddenly aware of their proximity, the way Liam’s leaning over the gearshift to look at him, the way his hands rest on top of Harry’s. “Is this too much?” Liam continues. Harry shakes himself a bit, trying not to be affected by Liam’s proximity. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “A little nervous, but, like, I’ll be okay.” 

“Okay,” Liam says, leaning back and letting go of Harry’s hands. Harry finds it a little easier to breathe when he isn’t inhaling Liam’s cologne with every breath. “But just let me know if it gets to be too much.” 

“I will,” Harry says, “I promise.” They get out of the car and Harry lets Liam walk him to the front door. Liam gets his keys out, unlocking the door, and almost as soon as it swings open they can hear the sound of feet. 

“Dad!” Jonah calls out, running right into Harry and wrapping his arms around his legs. There’s a scary moment where Harry nearly loses his balance and falls backward, but Liam’s quick to steady him with a hand on the small of his back. 

“Hi, Jonah,” Harry says, ignoring the flutter in his stomach after Liam touches him. “How are you?” 

“Good!” Jonah says, stepping back from Harry’s legs only to grab him by the hand and start tugging him down the hall. “Grandma and I made you something,” he says, and Harry shares a quick smile with Liam before Jonah pulls him into the kitchen. 

His mum is there, standing in front of a batch of cookies. They’re iced messily, and the three cookies in the middle say _Welcome home Dad!_ in neat handwriting, obviously his mum’s work. Harry smiles, reaching down to ruffle Jonah’s hair. “Did you make these?” he asks, and Jonah nods enthusiastically. “Thank you so much,” Harry says. He leans in to hug his mum before Jonah’s tugging at his pant leg. 

“Can we eat them now?” he asks, and Harry smiles. Liam sighs in the corner. 

“What do you say, Jonah?” he asks, exasperated, and Harry has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“ _Please_?” Jonah says, in a tone that nearly echoes Liam’s, and Harry doesn’t hold back his laugh this time. 

“I think we can eat them now,” he says, and the smile Jonah gives him feels like it can light up the whole room. He looks at Liam, who’s looking back at him with an understanding expression on his face, like he knows what Harry’s thinking. 

The four of them eat the cookies together in the kitchen, and when Harry and his mum laugh as Liam chases Jonah trying to wipe icing off his face, Harry thinks for the first time that they do feel like a family. 

*

His mum leaves shortly after they finish the cookies, wanting to catch a train back up north, and Jonah crashes from his sugar high not long after that. Liam carries him to his bedroom, setting him up for a nap, and then he comes back into the kitchen, where Harry’s started to wash up some plates. “You don’t have to do that,” Liam says, leaning on the counter next to him. 

“It’s fine,” Harry says, setting the plate onto the drying rack. “I wanted to be useful, you know. Everyone’s being so careful around me lately.”

Liam nods, looking thoughtful. “I’ll try to stop that, then. Um, I was wondering, where would you want to sleep?” 

Harry considers it an accomplishment that he doesn’t drop the bowl he’s washing. He’d known, of course, that he and Liam most likely share a bed, but he’d tried not to think too hard about actually sleeping together. “Um,” he starts. 

“It’s just that, obviously you can stay in our room, but I want to make sure you’re comfortable, so I could stay in the guest room,” Liam rushes out, before Harry can say anything further. Harry stand there for a moment, trying to understand everything Liam’s just said. “Liam,” Harry says slowly, “I don’t want to put you out. I’ll take the guest room.” He walks out of the kitchen before Liam can protest anymore, and picks up his gym bag before heading in the direction Liam had gone earlier with Jonah. He finds a hallway of doors, and pauses for a moment before Liam comes up behind him, pointing to a door at the end of the hall. 

“It’s through there,” he says softly, and Harry thanks him with a nod before he walks into the room. It’s a pretty standard bedroom, decorated in comfortable neutrals. Even if he can’t remember it, he’s pretty sure he chose the design. It feels like home. 

He puts his bag on the bed, still looking around the room. Liam’s followed him in, and he clears his throat before he speaks. “There’s a bathroom down the hall, but you could also use the one in the master if you like. It’s got all your things in it. And you might want to come pick out some clothes? Or I could bring you some.” 

“Uh, if it’s alright, could I get it later? I think I’d like to rest for a bit now,” Harry says. It seems like the safest option at the moment, to get into the cozy-looking bed and curl up and hide a little bit. He definitely doesn’t need to be going into his bedroom with Liam, seeing where they sleep, where they _fuck_. 

“Of course,” Liam says immediately, “whatever you want. Um, I’ll just get out of your hair then.” He gives Harry an awkward little nod and leaves the room. Though Harry had just thought the room felt homey, he’s not sure if he and Liam are quite at home with each other yet. 

Harry stays in his room until dinner time, curled under the covers but not sleeping, still too unused to the new surroundings to really drop off. When he finally emerges from his room, Jonah’s also awake from his nap, and he serves to diffuse some of the tension between Harry and Liam. He chatters away to both of them over their pasta, then insists that Harry come play with him in the living room. He sits on the floor, watching as Jonah pulls out some action figures and explains the very detailed plot they’ll be acting out. Liam sits on the couch with a cup of tea and watches them with a fond smile on his face, and Harry doesn’t think about the warm feeling in his stomach whenever he catches Liam’s eye.

Jonah insists that Harry put him to bed that night, which startles Harry for a moment because he’s sure they have some sort of routine that he can’t remember, and he doesn’t want to upset Jonah by doing it wrong. Jonah is surprisingly independent, though, proudly showing Harry how he brushes his teeth all by himself. He picks out the pajamas he wants to wear, though he needs Harry’s help putting them on, and he chooses the book he wants Harry to read to him. Harry’s impressed, and he feels proud of himself in an abstract way, because he knows he had some hand in helping to raise this wonderful boy. 

He and Jonah curl up in Jonah’s small bed together, and Harry slowly reads the book Jonah’s chosen. Jonah mouths the words along with Harry, and occasionally interjects to point out something happening in one of the pictures. Eventually, though, he starts to drop off, and Harry tucks him in with a kiss to his forehead. “Night, Jonah,” he says quietly. 

“Night, Dad,” Jonah mumbles back, “love you.” 

“Love you, too,” Harry says, and he’s not surprised to find he’s not lying. Jonah has found a space in his heart quickly; Harry wonders if it’s not something deeper inside of him remembering his connection to his son before his brain does. 

He steps out into the hallway, closing the door softly after him, and when he turns around he nearly runs into Liam. “Oh!” he says, taking a quick step back. “Um, he’s asleep now.”

“Good,” Liam says, smiling. “I’m surprised you only had to read one book.” 

Harry laughs a little. “Does he have the words memorized to all of them?” he asks, and Liam just nods, deadpan. It makes Harry laugh again. 

“So, listen,” Liam says, “I haven’t been working, really, since your accident, but I might be going back in again towards the end of the week. You know, once you’re comfortable enough to be here alone, to take care of Jonah on your own.” 

“Oh,” Harry says. He hadn’t thought of what Liam did for a living, but he supposes it’s time for Liam to go back to whatever he does. “Right. What is it you do, exactly?” 

“I work for a small music label, mostly in talent acquisition. Though sometimes I sit in on some of the producing sessions as well.”

“Wow,” Harry says. “That’s amazing. So you haven’t been working since the accident?” 

“They gave me some leave,” Liam says, “with you in hospital and no one to really take care of Jonah. He starts school again in September, but you mostly watch him over summers, since you can work from home.” 

“So my work is handled, too, then?” Harry asks. He feels a lot of sympathy for Liam; he hadn’t thought of the logistics that must have gone into arranging their lives after his accident. Liam’s had to deal with this all on his own, and Harry feels sorry for that. 

“Yeah, you started a company, with one of our mates from uni, Niall. It’s been fairly successful, and Niall knows what happened. He wanted to come see you in hospital, but once we realised you wouldn’t remember him, we thought it best to, like, limit the number of shocks. Figured the new husband and child was enough.” Liam huffs a little laugh at the end, rubbing at the back of his neck self-consciously. 

“Hey,” Harry says, reaching out to put a hand on Liam’s shoulder, “it’s alright. Thank you, for handling all of this, really. I’ll start to pull my own weight again.” 

“It’s not about that,” Liam says, and he’s looking at Harry the same way he had in the car earlier , the way that makes Harry a bit breathless. “We all just want you to get better, in any way you can. I don’t expect anything from you, yeah? Like, if you don’t feel ready to watch Jonah on your own at the end of the week, I’ll take more time off work. But, like, Dr. Caldwell said sometimes it’s best for amnesia patients to get back into their normal routine, so they can relearn their lives.”

“You’re right,” Harry says. “And, like, I want to help out. I know none of this was easy for you, Liam, and now that I’m out of hospital I think I can start making it a bit easier, yeah?” 

“Okay,” Liam says. “We can work with that.” And Harry thinks they probably can. 

*

Harry wakes up the next morning to a small body crawling into his bed, and he’s smiling before he even opens his eyes. “Morning, Jonah,” he says, voice rough with sleep, and he opens his eyes to see Jonah curled up under the covers next to him. 

“Morning, Dad,” he says back. He’s lying close to Harry, their heads practically sharing a pillow. Harry smiles, and reaches out to tickle at Jonah’s stomach a bit, causing him to let out a peal of laughter and squirm away from Harry on the bed. 

“What’s up, bud?” Harry asks once Jonah’s calmed down a bit, and it looks like he’s thinking deeply about something. 

“Daddy said that when you got hurt, you got sick and now you can’t remember things good. Does that mean you didn’t remember me?” he asks, and he looks so distraught that Harry’s not sure how to answer for a moment. He doesn’t want to lie to Jonah, but he’s also afraid that the truth will break the little boy’s heart. 

“I don’t remember when we brought you home, no,” he starts, and he watches carefully as Jonah listens, not wanting to cause a breakdown. “But I’ll tell you this: as soon as I saw you in the hospital, I knew you were mine.”

“Really?” Jonah asks, a hopeful look on his face. 

“Of course,” Harry says. “I don’t need my brain to know that, it’s all in my heart. So I might need your help remembering some of the little things, but I’ve got the big things down.” 

“Okay,” Jonah says, giving a serious nod. “I can help.” It’s clear to Harry that Jonah takes his responsibility seriously, wanting to be useful, and it reminds Harry so much of Liam’s determination for a moment that he has to look away. “Can you make me my favorite breakfast?” Jonah asks then, and Harry looks back at him. Breakfast is good, he thinks, breakfast he can do. 

“Sure, wanna tell me what it is?” 

“Pancakes!” Jonah cheers. “With blueberries and bananas.”

Harry reaches out and pokes Jonah in the nose. “I can most definitely do that.” 

Harry gets out of bed and heads towards the kitchen, leaving Jonah to go wake Liam and get him ready for breakfast. He pokes around the cabinets for a bit until he finds a bowl and whisk, then grabs the ingredients he needs out of the fridge. He’s just pouring the milk into the batter when a strong sense of deja vu overcomes him. 

_Harry’s stirring the batter for pancakes, humming a little tune under his breath, when a pair of arms wrap around his waist. He smiles, leaning back into Liam’s chest. “Morning,” he says._

_“Morning, babe,” Liam responds, his voice rough in a way that makes something twist in Harry’s belly. “Looks good.” Liam’s rocking the both of them gently back and forth, chin hooked over Harry’s shoulder as he watches him toss in the chopped fruit._

_Liam starts to press kisses along the side of Harry’s neck, leading down to where his neck meets his shoulder, exposed where his old t-shirt’s collar is loose. He bites down at the juncture, sucking the skin into his mouth and making Harry’s head fall back against Liam’s shoulder. “Fuck, Li,” Harry says, and Liam only hums into Harry’s skin. He releases it after a moment, satisfied with his work, and presses a kiss to the reddened skin. “Liam,” Harry complains, “I’m making breakfast for your son.”_

_“_ Our _son,” Liam corrects, and Harry rolls his eyes. “And I’m not doing anything to stop you.” He grinds his hips into Harry’s ass then, his half-hard dick contradicting his words._

_“Yes, you are,” Harry says, “and if you don’t stop soon, Jonah’s going to see something he definitely shouldn’t. Plus it isn’t sanitary.”_

_Liam snorts at that, his face buried in Harry’s shoulder. “We’ve done far too much in this kitchen for you to complain about things being sanitary.” Harry blushes, memories flashing through his mind of all the extremely unsanitary things they’ve done in that very kitchen._

_“Still, Li, we can’t now,” he says, and then he turns around in Liam’s arms, throwing his arms around Liam’s neck. He leans in and brushes a quick kiss against Liam’s lips, laughing when Liam follows him as he pulls away and draws him into another kiss. “Later, yeah? After Jonah’s gone to nursery.”_

_“Fine,” Liam says, but it doesn’t stop him from drawing Harry into one last, long kiss before he lets Harry get back to the pancakes._

The memory comes on so strong and sudden that Harry drops the bottle of milk, sending it splashing all over the floor and the lower cupboards. “Fuck,” he says, staring at the mess and thinking of the memory he’s just recovered.

“Harry?” Liam’s voice calls around the corner. “Is everything alright?” 

Harry’s not sure why the only memories he’s recovered so far have involved Liam, and nothing else. Or why they usually involve some sort of romantic situation. Maybe he just has an excess of memories like that, or maybe his brain hates him and wants to constantly embarrass him. He thinks it might be a combination of the two. What he definitely knows, though, is that he doesn’t need Liam coming in the room right now, so he calls back, “everything’s fine! The milk just spilled a bit!”

When Liam seems to accept his excuse and doesn’t come into the kitchen, Harry takes a deep breath and gets started on cleaning up his mess, hoping that the flush on his cheeks goes down before Liam or Jonah can ask him about it. 

*

The spend the next few weeks establishing a sort of routine. Liam goes back to work after a few days, leaving Harry to spend most of his time alone at home with Jonah. Harry doesn’t mind; it allows him to get to know the boy better, and also gives him a bit of a respite from the growing crush he has on Liam. He’s not surprised to discover his feelings--in fact, he’s a bit relieved. It would be pretty difficult if he didn’t feel affection towards Liam and Jonah. He can’t imagine leaving them, living without them. Even though he’s still missing most of his memories, he fits with them, and he loves them. 

He’s still not quite sure he’s ready to tell Liam that, though. They’ve been getting closer over the past few weeks, re-learning each other. Liam takes Harry to his therapist weekly, and after they usually get lunch together, taking the time while Jonah’s with a sitter to really talk to each other. Harry’s glad that Liam never pushes him, never grills him on his discussions with his therapist. Really, he sits back and answers Harry’s questions about himself and about their lives together. 

Harry’s regained a few more memories over the past weeks, but he’s still missing most of the major events of his life. One of the memories he recovered was of a spectacularly bad hangover he’d had when he was 20, which was terribly disappointing, especially when he’d rather remember his graduation, or his wedding, or the day they brought Jonah home. 

It’s not just the lunches, either--it’s the nights after Jonah goes to sleep, when he and Liam curl on the couch and talk about their days or just sit and watch telly. It’s then that Harry wants to just cuddle up to Liam, rest in his arms and press a kiss to his lips. There’s always something that holds him back from crossing that line, though. But after the fourth night in a row that he finds himself more fascinated by the line of Liam’s jaw than the movie on the screen, he thinks that it probably won’t be much longer before he can’t take it anymore and pushes through whatever’s holding him back. 

*

It all comes to a head two weeks after that. Harry’s gone back to work, meeting Niall, his business partner. He and Niall get along immediately, and Niall is a great help with getting him back into the swing of things at work. Harry remembers some of it--he had gone to classes when he was 20, and a few other things come back once Harry starts working regularly again. Most importantly, though, he’s gained a friend in Niall, and he’s glad for that. 

Niall’s close with Liam and Louis, too, the four of them having formed a bit of a group in uni and staying in touch after graduation. Harry’s likes that, likes the idea of having such a strong support network in each other. It’s why he jumps at Niall’s invite to a dinner with the four of them, hoping to learn even more about his new life by spending time with his friends. Liam doesn’t hesitate after seeing Harry’s enthusiasm, and Louis is always up for some pints, which is how Harry finds himself pulling up outside of Niall’s flat with Liam in the driver’s seat and a bag full of lagers at his feet. 

They go in, and Harry gets the full tour from Niall while Louis and Liam catch up on the couch, beers already in hand. After Harry sees everything (which doesn’t take long, since Niall lives alone and doesn’t have too much extra space), they join the others. Harry sits next to Liam, the way they have been nearly every night since Harry came home from hospital, and ignores the knowing look Louis shoots him from Liam’s other side. So maybe the couch is a little cramped with three people, and maybe Harry should have taken one of the armchairs like Niall did. But Liam is his husband, and he has every right to sit next to him, so really Louis should be the one moving, not Harry.

Dinner is comfortable, banter flowing between the four of them easily. Harry doesn’t feel left out at all, even when the others laugh over some inside joke that Harry can’t remember. With every drink Harry has, he finds himself leaning closer into Liam’s warmth next to him on the couch. He doesn’t realise he’s dozed off until Liam whispers in his ear, “wake up, babe.” 

“Huh?” Harry says, pulling himself away from Liam’s shoulder. He glances around and doesn’t see the others anywhere. “Where’d they go?” he asks, still groggy. 

“Louis head out a bit ago, and Niall went to bed just a few minutes ago. Thought maybe we could head home?”

“Yeah, that’s good,” Harry says, yawning loudly at the end of his sentence. Liam laughs softly, then starts to herd him off the couch and towards the door. Harry’s limbs feel heavy, not cooperative as he puts his boots on at the door. He expects to fall back asleep as soon as he rests his head on the seat in the car, but he doesn’t. He’s thinking about too many things, and he spends the drive home discreetly watching Liam from the passenger side. Liam must assume he’s asleep, because he doesn’t say anything, just hums along to the radio absentmindedly. It makes Harry smile, and then he’s thinking about all the other ways Liam’s made him smile since he woke up that day in the hospital. 

He can feel himself coming to a decision, one that could possibly tilt his world on its axis. But then again, he thinks, maybe it wouldn’t. If anything, Liam’s the one who’s kept him steady these last few weeks. And not just him, but Jonah as well, dealing with a son who still isn’t quite sure why his father’s memory has lapsed. Liam’s done all that without faltering, those few bumps in the hospital notwithstanding. Thinking about that--along with everything else he’s feeling--only makes Harry more firm in his decision. 

When they pull up in front of their place, Harry follows Liam in, but doesn’t head for the bedrooms like he normally would. Instead, he pauses in the doorway. “Liam?” he asks quietly, and Liam turns towards him with a hum, still half-focused on undoing his boots. “Can we sit for a minute? Before bed? There’s something I wanted to talk with you about.” 

Liam looks up at him at that. “Everything alright?” he asks, sounding cautious, and Harry nods. He bites his lip a bit to keep from laughing, because if this conversation goes the way he wants it to, everything will be better than alright. 

They head into the living room, sitting next to each other on the couch, but Liam leaves a distance between them that he hasn’t in a while. Harry finds that he misses the way they were sitting at Niall’s. “What did you want to talk about?” Liam asks, while Harry is wondering how he can close the distance.

“Um,” Harry starts. He’d been so sure of his decision before, and he still is, but he’s struggling to find the words to say it. “Liam, I don’t think I’ll ever get my memories back.”

“Haz--” Liam starts, and Harry holds up a hand to stop him. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ve been working on it with my therapist, like, coming to terms with it. But I wanted to let you know. But I also wanted to let you know that it doesn’t matter, because I still want to be with you.” 

“What?” Liam breathes. Harry finds the courage to scoot closer to him on the couch, reaching out to rest his hand on top of Liam’s. 

“I want to be with you, properly. I want to kiss you. I _really_ would like to sleep with you. And I want us to raise Jonah together as a family. So long as you’re okay with that.”

Liam huffs a laugh. “Of course I’m okay with that,” he says. “I’m married to you. I just--I didn’t think you would still want me.” 

“Why would you think that?” Harry asks, moving even closer to Liam. Their thighs are pressing together now. 

“In the hospital, when you were still sleeping,” Liam says, avoiding eye contact, “you said Zayn’s name. I wasn’t sure, thought maybe you were just dreaming, but then you woke up and thought you were still with him.” He looks up at Harry then, meeting his eyes. “I was scared you would regret it, would regret _me_.” 

Harry can’t resist it anymore, and he leans in to brush a kiss against Liam’s lips, drawing back after only a moment. “I could never,” he whispers into the space between their mouths, and he can’t say anything more before Liam’s moving in again and kissing him. This one is a bit harder than the last, and Harry can’t help but gasp a little at the way Liam quickly takes control. Liam slips a bit of tongue in when Harry does that, which only makes Harry gasp again, leaning further into Liam’s mouth. 

He’s not sure how long they stay there, caught up in each other, only that he doesn’t want it to end. He’d recovered some memories of kissing Liam, but none of them can compare to the reality. Their kisses only stop when Harry’s exhaustion and the drinks he’d had at Niall’s catch up to him, causing him to yawn into the kiss. Liam pulls away with a quiet laugh. “We should go to bed,” he says, and Harry nods, yawning again. 

Liam takes him by the hand and leads him past the guest bedroom and into the master. Harry’s not spent much time in here, mostly coming in to use the shower quickly or grab a shirt out of the closet. It’s felt strange, like he was intruding on his own past life, but now it just feels right to strip down to his boxers and lie down on the bed, resting against the pillows. He watches as Liam removes his own clothes, and lets out a groan at the sight of Liam’s chest. “Your body is unfair,” he mumbles tiredly, as Liam climbs into bed next to him, making Liam laugh. Harry gives in to the urge to cuddle up to Liam, tossing one leg across his, an arm draped across his waist and his head resting on Liam’s shoulder. Liam wraps an arm around Harry and reaches to turn off the light. He presses a kiss into Harry’s hair. 

“Love you,” he whispers, and Harry hums. He’s not sure he’s ready to say it back just yet, but he presses a kiss to Liam’s chest where his head is resting. Liam whispers for him to sleep, and he does, secure in Liam’s arms. 

*

_one year later_

Harry wakes up before Liam on the day of the anniversary, watching Liam’s chest rise and fall for a few moments before he carefully gets out of bed. He pads down the hall, sticking his head into Jonah’s room to check on him. He’s still fast asleep, blankets kicked all over; it’s something Harry’s learned about his son, how he’s active even in sleep. Harry steps in to tuck him in again, brushing his hair out of his face to drop a kiss on his forehead before he leaves the room. 

He makes himself a cup of tea before he curls into the side of the couch, sipping slowly while he thinks. It’s not too long before he hears footsteps behind him, and Liam joins him. He doesn’t say anything, just cuddles up next to Harry on the couch and rests his head on his shoulder.

“It’s one year today,” Harry says quietly. One year since he lost his memories. He’s regained some of them, but large swaths of his memory remain blank. He still can’t remember their wedding day, but he did recover the memory of bringing Jonah home. It’s a give and a take, he’s come to realise; he may never get those years back, but he’s working on building new memories. 

“It hasn’t been too bad, has it?” Liam asks, voice low and rough from sleep. Harry hums, thinking over the past year, the way he’s gotten to fall in love with Liam all over again. The way he’s been able to watch Jonah grow and learn new things every day. The way it feels like he’d never have imagined his life this way when he was 20, but he’s grateful every minute that it turned out like this. Liam’s looking at him, he realises, expecting an answer, and Harry turns to brush a kiss against his mouth. 

“It’s been amazing,” he says, and then he leans in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr [here](http://foliealou.tumblr.com/) and the fic post [here](http://foliealou.tumblr.com/post/178166548766/talking-of-hope-in-different-tenses)


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